


A Fraction of hope

by cloudylane



Category: Football RPF
Genre: A tiny bit of fluff, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudylane/pseuds/cloudylane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment between James and Isco after the match against Atletico</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fraction of hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, 
> 
> so this little piece is probably a bit random and confusing, it has an almost finished prequel, and may  
> get a sequel, but this moment between the two characters came to me after watching the match yesterday, so I hope its readable anyway...
> 
> have fun reading =)

You know you shouldn’t. After all it’s your fault, well not really, something, actually from what you’ve gathered pretty much everything, went wrong long before you met him, but its thanks to you that its all back, raw and fresh not hidden under that sunny smile. You still can’t believe how…arrogant and egoistic you were, like it was just about what you felt, and what you wanted…Like you were some kind of big savior he had been wanting for. Idiot. 

James didn’t need anyone, at least not someone like you who wanted things from him, who demanded trust, care and affection, when those things were probably the greatest gifts anyone and especially James could give. Still, even though its probably selfish again, you can’t not go over. No matter that Cris sends you a murderous glare and even Jesé looks pretty disapproving, James will tell you to fuck off anyway, but you have to try, you can’t stop doing the stupid thing. Actually he doesn’t, he simply isn’t acknowledging your presence at all. This isn’t the crying, visibly distraught James of the world-cup, when despite how many times life had fucked him over, he still allowed the world to see him with all his vulnerabilities. (You aren’t sure you have every met anyone this brave) He is quiet now, rigid, a face so composed it seems unreal only his eyes give give some of that pain away, almost like they are darkened by turmoil. You want to apologize tell him that you know how important this was, how sometimes football is the only thing in life that allows you to keep it all together, how failing on the pitch can feel like everything around you is coming down…That you wanted to win for him, with him so badly. You want to pull him into a hug too, desperately so, just offer him some comfort however little it may be. But you restrain yourself, you’ve already messed up enough, this can’t be about you anymore. So all you do is place your Hand between you, palm open and you do talk about your family, Malaga, how much you sometimes miss home, how Messi is driving you nuts right now because he keeps climbing into bed with you when you are asleep. It isn’t a long ride back to Valdebebas, even with traffic and everything, its horribly short. Especially today, James is still motionless when the bus turns into the familiar parking lot. 

Well it would have been silly to expect anything else, it still hurts.You fumble with your jacket and bag so long that pretty much everyone has left the bus when you get up Yes you are trying to buy time in any way, no matter how pathetic. Once outside the cold night air hits you like a slap, great even the weather is being cruel. You should have just stayed in bed today. „Francisco“ James voice is so low you almost overhear him but his Colombian lilt gives your name a whole knew meaning. Turning around you just smile at him softly, trying to let him know that he had all the time in the world to find the right words. „You…tried your heart out, don’t…don’t beat yourself up“ He looks so sincere, eyes wide, bottom lip quivering slightly that it takes your breath and most of your coherent thoughts away. He can’t really…he can’t be thinking like that. He should be angry, he has every right to be, you have failed him again. Instead it’s indifference, like nothing thats done to him, that he has to go through matters anymore. You hug yourself just so your arms have something to do, because it hurts almost as much as his tears did. „James…It’s not right, not after everything“ You’d rather not mention that night, you still feel awful about your behavior. „It is…It hurts to fail, to disappoint everyone, but so what? It’s nothing I can’t deal with..or that warrants pity…and why should I be more important that you?“ Because you want him to…you want him to know that you are willing to put him first, to wait, to restrain yourself…hell you’d fly to the bloody moon for him if you could, but you won’t give up on him. He may not care all that much about himself anymore but you do.

„I just…can you give me a hug?“ James might not find physical contact comforting, and who could blame him? But you just meed something to hold onto right now, still you steel yourself for his refusal. James just looks at you for a moment, you wouldn’t call it a smile but its something in the general direction. „Come here“ His invitation comes so surprisingly you practically stumble towards him, pathetically emotional all over sudden but you couldn’t care less. He still feels tense muscles hard against yours but his hold of you is surprisingly strong. Secure. Safe. Warm. Its stupid considering the things you’ve done but you don’t think you’ve ever felt as close to him as you do now, his arms around your waist, your face buried in the crook of his neck. 

You’re almost tempted to cry because in-between the disaster with James and that stupid loosing streak, yes three games count, you feel pretty rundown but that would be too much. This already is so much more that you deserve. Instead you inhale his scent, still intoxicating, the feel of his body against yours, no seducing, no celebrating, just closeness. Its just a fraction, before James this would have hardly meant anything, Right now, the way he leans into you ever so slightly, even rests his hand in the nape of your neck, reminds you what you are fighting for. It takes a lot of willpower but you eventually move away. „Are you okay getting home?“ Well you can’t change completely, you still want to protect him from everything. „I am, don’t worry…and I should get going or Poppy is going to kill me for neglecting her“ James grins, its shaky but its real and it warms you up. „Well…I wouldn’t want that, so good night James“ He looks shattered, even more so now than right after the match, you wish you could take him somewhere warm and far away from everything, but in reality there is no space for that, there may never be. „Good night Francisco…sleep well“ he replies giving you an awkward little wave, that you of course, find endearing. You watch him go steps labored, shoulders pulled up in the cold but still beautiful to you. In your empty quiet car, you recall the feel of bing in his arms, it might not be a start of anything but its enough to give you hope.


End file.
